


like an empty bottle takes the rain

by Itsamess



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: And Jughead still wears his beanie, Asexual Jughead Jones, Betty Cooper Needs A Family, But he still loves Betty, Does he ever take it off?, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jughead Jones Needs a Hug, Pillowtalk but not what you think, That's Bughead after all, nope - Freeform, some headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 02:29:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10754862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itsamess/pseuds/Itsamess
Summary: But if pain comes and goes in waves, Betty is the low tide.





	like an empty bottle takes the rain

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language and this is a translation of something I've written in italian. I double-checked it but, as always, if you spot any mistake please let me know.  
> I love you all

  
_Take my mind and take my pain_  
Like an empty bottle takes the rain  
And heal, heal, heal, heal  
And tell me something last  
   
Pain plays hide and seek with Jughead.  
Sometime it finds him, sometime it doesn't.  
  
Jughead knows where to hide – usually behind a laptop and an armour of sarcasm -  but you can't run from something you carry inside. It's like running in circles. Jughead knows it all too well. Sometime it happen to him to hear Jellybean's voice around the house, except for the fact that his sister is miles away and “house” is an off-book bunk hidden in a Drive-in.  
  
  
Pain is not costant.  
Otherwise Jughead couldn't bear it.  
   
It leaves him days off, days in which Jughead gets dressed, goes to school and tries to act like any other kid of his age. Other days, instead, pain is so heavy on his chest that he can barely breathe and the only thing that keeps him from falling apart is that no one would be there to pick up the pieces if he did.  
  
Pain comes and goes in waves.  
  
It takes everything good in Jughead's life and carries it away with the same stubborn cruelty of a sea wave that destroys a sandcastle built on the foreshore. Pain makes him fight with his only friend left and makes him sit alone, at lunch and at science lab, so that his blues can't infect the other students.  
  
But if pain comes and goes in waves, Betty is the low tide.  
   
«We could go away« she whispers one night, lying beside him on a bed that is clearly too small for two people. Lights are off – neighbours could get suspicious if they saw them on at that hour of the night – and Jughead can't see her expression, but in Betty's voice he notice the shadow of  disillusioned melancholy, as if she was the first one not believing to her own words. «Leaving Riverdale for good, leaving it all behind»  
   
«It would be an idea» Jughead murmurs,  staring at the ceiling of Betty's room. It is covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. It's a childish room, all pink and pure and pretty. There's a cream-colored closet and a thick carpet with a flowery pattern. Ironed curtains at the windows, framed pictures on the walls. And smiling people in the pictures. Jughead wonders what is doing someone like her with someone like him.  
   
«I could work as waitress and in the meantime be a freelance for an online newspaper, and you would finally had the chance to finish your novel.… » Betty goes on, with the sweet calm voice one use to tell bedtime stories to a child «We could rent a one-room apartment somewhere in the suburbs, how much can it cost? We would take out  a loan for the deposit and we would find a way to pay the bills...»  
   
They remain silent for a while and then Betty says: «It would never work, would it?»  
   
«No, never» Jughead answers honestly, because what's the use of lying? Even if they found the way to leave Riverdale, that town would set stuck to them, like a spiderweb or a curse. But it was nice thinking about leaving, even for a moment.  
Betty's arm is parallel to Jughead's, their hand backs nearly touching. She slowly moves her fingers, flexing them as much as she can, until they reach Jughead’s fingers.  
   
«You weren't at school today»  
   
«Did anyone notice?» Jughead replies. His voice is more bitter than he thought. Betty doesn't deserve it.  
   
«I noticed» she answers, furrowing her brows  «Archie noticed. We don't-»  
Betty takes a deep breath, weighing each word and turning her face to look at him: «Jug... You don't have to tell me where you have been or what you have done… I just wanna know if you are alright. Just this»  
   
He nods imperceptibily and it seems to be enough to Betty, because she just says «Ok». Now she looks at the ceiling like before, but she is holding his hand.  
  
That's what he loves about her.  
Betty avoids direct questions and accepts him for what he is, listening to his silences as if they were songs and painting in yellow the walls he builts between himself and the rest of the world. She has never asked him where he used to live before the Andrews offered him a roof and an air mattress, and she has never commented the fact that Jughed was always the first to be in classroom, every morning, even though he clearly hated the school. Jughead never told her about the nights at the Drive-In, nor about the storage closet at school. Betty never asked.  
  
«Yesterday I called Polly» Betty annouces at some point and Jug is glad they changed the subject because he is not the only one in town whose life is a mess. «I wanted to know how she was doing, with the baby and everything… You know, Coopers and Lodges aren't quite friendly and Hermione Logde is not easy to handle, so I was ready to find Polly another place-»  
   
«Instead?»  
   
«Instead she sounded…  _happy_ , can it be?»  
   
«Who would have said it? _People can actually be happy in Riverdale_!» Jug exclaims theatrically, as he is tormenting the hem of his t-shirt «It could be the title for my novel. Ok, I would have to cut some bits, like the chapter about the murder, the following thirteen, the subplot about the relationship between a student and his creepy professor, all those skeletons in the closet and the skeleton behind it, and all the mentions to break-ins, burglaries and arson-»  
   
«Jug»  
   
«Yes, Betty?» he answers, turning to look at her. Her elbow is now on the pillow and she is looking at him from under her long eyelashes with a look that manages to be naive and decisive at the same time, like one of those actresses in Hitchcock's noirs.  
   
«The novel you are writing… It is fiction, isn't it? Reality can’t be that bad»  
   
_It's ever worse_  he would like to say, but he knows that Betty needs to believe that things will get better even when they won't, because she wears the tough girl air with the same disarming candor with which she wears headbands. She can have fun playing the detective and planning revenge against the football team players, but she will always be the kind of girl who cries watching  _Forrest Gump_ , orders vanilla milkshakes and comes home every night to write on her secret diary in a bedroom whose ceiling is covered in glow-in-the-dark stars. Once again, Jug wonders how in the world could he deserve her.  
(He probably doesn't)  
   
«Are these Polly’s?»  
   
«What, you mean the stars?» Betty asks, pointing vaguely at the ceiling, her arms like black branches in the forest of the night «Yeah, they were hers…  Guess what, when she was little she wanted to become an astronaut! But I guess all children want to become astronauts, don't they?»  
   
Actually Jughead has never thought about it, not even when he was a child. He has got used to live day by day, without wondering too long what he is gonna eat next time or where he will sleep when his temporary place will be found out.  
People like him land on their feet because they can't do otherwise.  
«And what about you? Have you always wanted to be a journalist?»  
   
This question must be unexpected because Betty doesn't answer straightaway. She keeps silent for a very long while and Jug almost thinks she has fallen asleep – it has happened before – but she is just thinking. She opens and closes her mouth a couple of times and at the end she blurts out: «When I was little I actually wanted to be a princess»  
   
Jughead bursts out laughing.  
Betty had almost forgotten how nice his laugh is.  
   
« _A…princess_?»  
   
«Yeah... don't mock me!» she exclaims, playfully teasing him «It was my biggest dream! I was five years old and I had a pink bedroom-»  
   
«Your bedroom is still pink» he points out.  
   
«You are right, it is» Betty answers, pulling herself up on her elbows to have a look around «But my dreams have changed. Isn't it what dreams do? They come true, or they change»  
   
Betty can't help but thinking about prom night, about Archie slowly dancing with her with his hands on her waist but not saying _I love you too_.  She feels a stab of pain at the memory but if she opens her eyes it's already April and there is Juggy beside her.  
   
And it seems so right that it's him the one who is lying on her bed, and no one else. Betty turns her face to look at him. She has to blink to bring his side into focus: it’s all curves and edges and locks escaping from his beanie. She leans towards him. She caresses his cheek and then puts her lips on his.    
  
These kisses are slow, light, uncertain. Jughead isn't sure what he is supposed to do and lets Betty take the lead, since she is surely more experienced than him.  
  
Til now, he isn't unconfortable. Kisses are fine. They are almost pleasant. Betty's lips are soft and sweet, like her favorite milkshake, or at least the milkshake she usually order at Pop's. Maybe her mouth tastes like this because Betty drinks vanilla milkshakes all the times. Jug remembers something he has read years ago, that flamingos' feathers are pink because they eat only shrimps. Jug doesn't know if it's normal to think about flamingos when one’s kissing a girl, but the truth is that in this case he doesn't know anything at all: he doesn't know how to move his lips, he doesn’t know when to breathe, he doesn’t know if he should keep his eyes closed betweet a kiss and the following. And he doesn't know if this is the moment when he is supposed to _feel_ something, because he isn’t feeling anything at all. Anything physical.  
  
Well, if there is something Jughead knows for sure is that he feels connection with Betty, but not attraction. Not that she is not pretty. She is blonde and blue-eyed and boys like it, don't they? But when Jug looks at her, he doesn't think she is pretty. He thinks that her eyes have the same colour of the sky in the springtime and that her face features are aesthetically pleasing. Symmetries, proportions, chromatic scales: Jug finds her beautiful like a beautiful vynil or a beautiful facade. He doesn't want to hold her, if not to let her know that he is with her. He doesn't want to kiss her, if not to please her and til their kisses are this light it doesn't bother him.  
   
«Jug» Betty moans against his lips, trying to run her fingers through his hair. He is wearing his usual grey woolen beanie, so it's quite hard.  
   
«What?»  
This may not be the most romantic thing to say, but that’s the way he is.  
   
«Do you ever take your beanie off?» she whispers in his ear, sounding a little impatient.  
   
Jug can almost feel her pounding heartbeat, while his remain calm and steady: «Not if I can help it»  
   
«Well, now you can't» Betty says in a chuckle, trying to take it off.  
   
«No, Betty, I am serious about this»  
Jug blocking her wrist. He is firm, but not violent. Jughead never is.  
«I never take it off»  
   
A flash of understanding lights Betty's eyes up and she loosen her grip a bit: she doesn't want to force him to do anything he doesn't want to, she knows it would only push him away and Jughead has already put enough distance between himself and the rest of the world. She is about to let go when, unexpectedly, Jug frees her wrist and nods.  
   
Betty sweetly takes his beanie off. She has an encouraging half smile and her eyes glimmer of anticipation,  but she changes expression when she sees what the beanie was covering.  
   
It’s a scar. Two inches, still visible in the dark. It’s light pink and looks old, but there is no such thing as an old scar.  
Jughead’s dark hair are a little lank, all around it.   
«Oh»  
That’s all she says. She doesn't ask any question, while Jughead knows she is dying to know about this, because she is a wannabe journalist and mysteries attract her.  
   
«Household accident» he mumbles, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. His voice doesn't tremble, even though this is the first time he talks about it. «Or at least that's what we told the doctors. Less questions. No cops»  
   
«And it… it wasn't an accident?»  
   
«No, if you don’t consider an accident being hit with a bottle by a drunkard that happens to be your father» he answers in a bitter voice «I was nine»  
   
They both stay silent for a while and then Betty touches his arm, hesitant.  
 «Thank you for telling me»  
   
He shrugs. He doesn't even know if has done it for her or for himself. Maybe he was just trying to take that weight off from his chest – one less secret to keep – maybe he was trying, for once, to be completely honest with somebody.  
   
«Now can I have my beanie back?» he grumps trying to turn on the other side of the bed.  
   
«Not yet»  
Betty puts her lips on the scar on his head, as if she could heal it just that way, with a faint tender kiss.  
   
He closes his eyes with a sigh of relief.  
   
Betty lifts her head and gives him back his beanie _._  
«Now you can»  
   
 

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to thank any casual reader who got here. I know that Jughead's beanie is just a modern version of his paper crown (is it a crown? I really don't have any idea) but I wanted to give it a reason in the show.  
> Also, parents suck, especially in Riverdale.  
> Hope you all liked it =) Any advice or comment will be very appreciated!  
> hugs


End file.
